“Good work Jones. We know this Goldilocks character is responsible for the Dumpty murder and the massacre of the Bear family and I’d bet my pension she knows what happened to the Gingerbread Man. All we need now is to find out who her boss is. Anybody with her?”
“Yes sir. The owner of the black car parked out front went up to her room five minutes ago. The car’s registered to a Miss Muffet.“
“Miss Muffet! It can’t be. What the hell is the head of MI6 doing here?”
It was while we were clearing out Grandma’s house that I came across her old shoes. Mum had always told me that, in her younger days, Gran had been quite a tearaway. The locals had called her the ‘Wicked Witch of the West’.
To me she was just a sweet old lady, who smelled a little of old mothballs and lavender soap. I smiled, as I remembered sitting on her lap, listening to her tales of strange lands and winged monkeys.
My thoughts were interrupted when mum shouted, “Dorothy, dear, have you finished in there? It’s time we were going.”
OK, I admit I was at the house. I was just passing and saw the door open and popped in. And yes I ate the porridge and may have accidentally broken one of their lousy chairs. Sure they were a bit angry when they came back and caught me napping in the kids bed, and we may have exchanged a few heated words, but you’ve got to believe me Inspector, when I left that place they were all very much alive. I’m telling you, as God is my witness, I know nothing about any poisoned pizza and three dead bears.
Says he’s leaving, even bought himself a bike so he’d have his own transport, but we both know he won’t. He gets like this sometimes, says he wants a life of his own, tired of following me around. I tell him that would be OK with me, I never asked him to tag along. But, if the truth be known, we’d miss each other if he moved on. We’ve sort of got used to each others ways over the years. I’ve told him though, if he stays the bike’s got to go – can’t have that following me wherever I go.
“It’s freezing out there Jimmy, and it’s started snowing. Why don’t we give it a miss and go down the pub instead.”
“No chance mate! The boss was insistent, said it had to be tonight, and what the boss says, we do.”
“Suppose so, but why tonight?”
“All to do with the weather Billy. Seems we’re in for the coldest night of the winter. By morning the lake will be frozen solid and will stay that way for weeks. That’s why we have to kill her tonight and get her body in that lake while we still can. You ready?”
The ignominy of it all! The stares she was getting from passers by, the derisory honking of horns, all so utterly embarrassing. Didn’t they realise she was a classic, a beautiful example of an age when cars were cars. Yet they had the audacity to tether her to this platform and tow her along behind, what nowadays was laughingly described as a modern automobile. Oh, how standards had dropped. If only she could shake off these shackles and drive off under her own stream. Then she would show these philistines what a real lady of the road was capable of.